


We See Only What We Wish

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo really hates Thorin for obvious reasons, Bilbo the Dark Lord's consort, Evil!Bilbo, Explicit language AND sex, Help I am addicted to the kink meme, Help I now ship Bilbo/Sauron, It will be my undoing, Jerkwad!Thorin (AKA Canon Thorin), M/M, Revenge, You get the whole deal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite saving his life, Bilbo is banished from Erebor. He leaves, the only voice to comfort him the one from the ring. It offers to help him, to make him feel better.</p><p>And its owner tells him that he is everything Thorin isn't. Bilbo is alone and in need of comfort, and he believes him. He'll take whatever comfort he can now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the full prompt:  
> After giving the Arkenstone away and being exiled, the ring starts to whisper to Bilbo, taking advantage of his hurt and heartbreak, starts to promise to take all the pain away. Maybe during the battle it is obvious that many will die and the ring promises to save everyone Bilbo loves, which is the reason why Thorin, Fili and Kili survive.
> 
> But he gets no praise or thanks and the ring keeps making him worse. Eventually he commands an army of orcs, goblins and the ring wraigths and starts to destroy everything and everyone. Now the dwarves, along with all of middle earth need to kill Bilbo. At this point Thorin is filled with regret because they discovered that Bilbo's breaking point had been being exiled and heartbroken.
> 
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/6263.html?thread=14499447#t14499447

He felt lips touch his forehead, but it felt strange. It wasn't like what he'd felt before with Thorin.

But Thorin doesn't want you any longer, Bilbo thought. He gave you up for the Arkenstone.

"Bilbo," Sauron said, "what is bothering you?"

"Well, it's," Bilbo said. A lump was forming in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it. "I can't stop thinking about Thorin."

"What do you mean?" There was a jealousy in his voice.

"I hate him, I really do, but I can't stop thinking about him." Bilbo clenched his fists. "And he probably isn't even thinking about me. He probably left me already for someone else."

Sauron pulled Bilbo into a hug. He tore off Bilbo's jacket, then ran his fingers over Bilbo's back. His fingers were cold as ice, but by now Bilbo could care less. He whispered into his ear, his voice low and soft. "You know I would never do that, don't you?" He began to kiss Bilbo's neck, his lips gentle and yet all consuming.

Bilbo couldn't help but give him a small smile. "Of course I know you'd never do that. You're far better than Thorin." He ran his fingers through Sauron's long black hair, soft and silky.

"Bilbo," Sauron said, "would you like for me to send a whole army of orcs to Erebor? It will be destroyed in no time at all."

"Dwarves are used to fighting orcs, even an army of them. If it weren't for an Orc then Thorin wouldn't be known as Oakenshield."

"Yes, but even if I fail, many of his people will die."

The idea was certainly intriguing.

There was a spark of assuredness in Sauron's blue eyes. "So would you like me to do it? Would it please you?"

"Yes," Bilbo said. "It would."

"And if I can," Sauron said, "then I will have him taken prisoner and taken to you." He whispered into Bilbo's ear, "Would you like to end his life yourself?" His voice was low, but now only malice filled it.

"Yes." Bilbo had never been so sure of anything that he had ever said before that single word. Yes, he wanted Thorin to suffer just like Bilbo had. "I want him to die at my hands; I want him to die knowing the scum that he is."

Sauron smiled. "I can see why I like you, Bilbo Baggins. You seem so innocent, but beneath your exterior you know exactly what you want."

"Thank you."

He pulled Bilbo closer, then kissed him. His tongue explored Bilbo's mouth, and his hands went down farther than he'd ever went before. Bilbo felt himself go hard, and he could tell Sauron had noticed as well. He didn't hesitate when Sauron pulled off his pants, gently but quickly.

"Are you ready for this, Bilbo?" Sauron asked, who began to pull off his own dark robes. "I understand if you don't think you're ready."

"No," Bilbo said. "Thorin, the dirty fucker, did it with me, and if he can do that with me, then you can do this with me. You'll be better than him; I know you will."

Lust flickered through Sauron's eyes. Bilbo stared at his pale, unscarred skin without a single hair on it. How different, and better it was, then Thorin! He was hard as well.

"Well then," Sauron said, "let's begin." He playfully messed up Bilbo's hair, a smile on his lips. "Would you like to begin?"

Bilbo filled with joy. "Please let me."

"Go on," Sauron said. "Do as you like."

So Bilbo did. He forced Thorin out of his mind and fucked Sauron. It was everything fucking Thorin wasn't. Thorin left him with bruises, but Sauron was gentle. Sauron was not demanding like Thorin was. Thorin fucked quickly, but Sauron drew it out as long as possible. Thorin didn't clean Bilbo when it ended, but Sauron took care.

When they finished, Bilbo's body was curved into Sauron's, two arms wrapped possessively around him, though it wasn't as though he'd actually want to leave. No, he wouldn't mind staying in those arms forever. Sauron wrapped a warm blanket around the two, then kissed the top of Bilbo's head, messing up his hair further.

For some reason Bilbo was sad. He wasn't supposed to be sad, not when he had Sauron with him, making him feel wanted. Why then did he feel sad? Bilbo should've been bursting with joy, but instead tears pricked at his eyelids and sobbing escaped his lips.

"Shhh," Sauron whispered, wiping the tears away. He wiped a tear away from Bilbo's eyes, then kissed his forehead again. "I won't ever let him hurt you again, Bilbo. I will have him dead and he be unable to save himself. Wouldn't you like that?"

"I would," Bilbo said, the tears still falling no matter how much he tried to stop them, "but I can't stop thinking about the fact that I saved him. I saved him from death once again and yet he yelled at me to leave Erebor, that I was unwelcome. I also saved his nephews, but he banished me anyway. Why didn't I just fucking let him die when I had the chance?"

"Shhh," Sauron whispered. "You need not feel bad for that. Letting him live didn't change his attitude, and that is his own problem. I promise that when he is captured he will suffer like he deserves."

Bilbo sniffled. "You promise?"

Sauron pulled him in and kissed him on the lips. "I promise by the ring on the finger." He held it up and let it gleam in the light. "Thorin will suffer as he deserves." Then he embraced Bilbo once more, trailing his body with kisses. Finally, Bilbo fell asleep, safely nestled inside Sauron's warm body. He would never forget this feeling, and would do anything to feel it.

"And," Sauron said, though Bilbo wasn't sure if it was in a dream or he actually said it, "if Thorin didn't betray you then we never would have met. Was it not worth it if you could be with me? For me it was definitely worth it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is captured by orcs working for Sauron.

It was the blood on Thorin's face that slowly dripped onto his eyes that told him he was doomed. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, but nothing could seem to stop the gash on his head. If it wasn’t treated soon then he would likely die. The orcs had arrived so suddenly and taken his people by surprise. They'd fought as best they could, and perhaps they would win, but they wouldn't win with him at their front, leading them.

"Master says bring him back," an Orc said, a warg standing at its side.

"Yes," said another. "He was really adamant on bringing the dwarf king. If we bring him unharmed then we should get moved up our ranks." That at least gave him hope for some medical treatment. Surely they’d heal his wounded head if they wanted to move above their ranks.

Thorin couldn't understand why he was so worried about the orcs. For Mahal’s sake, he could die of a head wound! He should also have been wondering who this master was and what he wanted with Thorin, but instead he tried to calm his heart, which was moving faster by the minute. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the orcs were the current largest concern he faced. He was sweating on the back of his neck, making his hair wet, and he was beginning to smell. He hoped the smell of orcs would cling to him. That would make it harder for them to find him when he escaped, and escape he would. If his own scent hung then they'd be sure to find him.

My people will live, he told himself. They are smart, resourceful. Surely they can still win, even without their king. And Fili and Kili are still in Erebor, so they have them. He kept repeating that in his head, but it did nothing to calm him. He was still in chains, at the hands of orcs.

When the orcs retreated, Thorin was forced to run. The chains burnt his skin, but he only ran faster. If he slowed down who knew what would happen to him. He was sure that the orcs would harm him eventually, unless they really wanted to rise above their current ranks. The barking of the voices of orcs rang through the air.

~

The night was cold. If orcs considered him to not be harmed when they gave him only scraps of dirty bread, did not treat his wounds, kept him in chains, and would give him no blanket, then they had no idea what being not harmed meant. But then again, they were orcs. What could Thorin honestly expect?

He was far from the fire, and though it was cold, at least very few orcs were watching Thorin. He needed to make his escape soon before he got too far away from Erebor. Or could others be after him already? He hoped so. Thorin did not want to be spending more time with orcs than was absolutely necessary.

The sound of orcs singing (which sounded like a pony dying and a snake hissing) and the associational call of a wild animal were the only things that he could hear. The orcs sang louder, and Thorin would have much more gladly listened to someone choke. He covered his ears, then tried to think of an escape plan.

He’d tried to get more information out of the orcs about their master, mostly by listening to them. Sometimes he would cause disruptions, but that would only make them lessen his bread ration. If this escape plan didn’t work, though he told himself not to think that way, then he’d need some good behavior to get back on the orcs’ good side, if only for more bread. His stomach grumbled, and the sound was so loud that he was surprised no orcs turned to face him.

The chains were the hardest things to get out of, but at least he had a fair chance of escape if he got out of them. The next problem would be weapons, and all his weapons had been taken from him save a small knife strapped to his side. Thorin had guessed that the orcs had been too stupid to notice it, and for that he thanked Mahal. However, it couldn’t do much damage unless it was used in an extremely close fight. The only other way it would work well was if it was thrown, but unlike his nephew Kili, Thorin wasn’t very good with long range attacks.

Sparks flew through the air as the fire weakened. Thorin knew that soon the orcs would get ready to get more firewood. They didn’t seem to be sleeping any time soon. He continued messing around with his chains, until one leg was free. It burned slightly, but Thorin could deal with that. Whoever this master was wasn’t someone Thorin wanted to face off against with only a small knife.

With one leg free, a surge of confidence shot through him. Even with very little, he could do quite a lot. If this fire he now felt burning inside him would continue, then surely he would be able to keep going, at least until he made his escape. 

He couldn’t help but think of what he’d be called. Thorin, the two time hero king, who not only with a group of thirteen others faced off against a dragon, but who also escaped from under the eyes of orcs. He would go down in dwarven history and for years to come his deeds would be remembered and known by all. Dwarves would call him Thorin the Mighty, Thorin the Victorious, Thorin the Hero.

He felt for the bandages at his head, which thankfully he had gotten, then felt the chains around his other leg. How hard could it be to get away? If he just worked hard then perhaps in only a few minutes he would be off.

And then of course his plans got foiled when an orc came over and noticed him trying to escape. He yelled for the others, then grabbed Thorin and broke his leg. One moment Thorin’s leg was fine and the next it felt as though Mahal’s hammer had hit it. This orc must not have cared about rising above the ranks or their master saying to leave him unharmed. When it finished, it just placed Thorin down, smiled his ugly, toothy smile when he screamed, and went back to the fire.

“Well he can’t escape now,” muttered one orc, a grin on its face. “Looks like the little dwarf king is afraid.”

“Just imagine what master will do to him!”

While they continued speaking, slowly changing from Westron to their native tongue, Thorin tried to hide the pain he felt. It was hard, however. His leg felt like it had been trampled on by a thousand ponies, and he wasn’t sure if the orcs would set a cast for it. His leg could be bruised forever.

But I will slow them down, Thorin thought, and he couldn’t help but be happy at that. Slowing down orcs was always worth it. And maybe that will give the dwarves time to come and get me. I’ll get proper treatment then and can continue leading my people once I’ve finished recovering. I may not necessarily be able to lead them into battle, but they will still have a responsible and prepared for king.

Thorin went to sleep soon after. His head throbbed, and the only dreams he had were hazy images, appearing one second and vanishing the next. By the time he woke up the next morning, he couldn’t even remember what they had even been about.

~

Thorin was cold, wet, hurt, and a pity to the eyes. For weeks he had been with the orcs, and not once had he seen any sight of rescue. Had his people been damaged and now needed to pick up the pieces of Erebor? Or could it just be that rescue was a bit behind, but after him none the less?

Or could they think you dead? Thorin thought. It was certainly a possibility. Did they really expect him to still be alive when his body was gone and an orc raid had just occurred? Still, Thorin clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe they’d sent a rescue mission of some sort. It could have been led by Kili for all he cared! Actually, scratch that. If it was led by Kili than it would probably end in disaster and Thorin would be in an even worse position than before. And Kili might not even bring a healer with him.

The days were cold and mostly rainy, the ground covered in a thick, dirty slush. His clothes were soaking most of the time, and he was surprised that by now he hadn’t already died. Dwarves were a strong folk, but even this Thorin didn’t understand. His leg still hurt, but by now he was used to the pain a little, so it was more bearable. He’d even started getting larger bread rations, and he ate whatever he got hungrily. The orcs would laugh at him when he gobbled down such small amounts of bread, but he could now care less. He was hungry, and he knew he had to take whatever he could. Thankfully the orcs hadn’t thought it to be funnier if they gave him smaller rations yet. Thorin knew he couldn’t hope that they would never figure that out, as they’d realize it eventually, but until then he’d have to eat whatever he could while he had the chance. And despite what he was given, he was always hungry. This was certainly quite a strange idea of unharmed that orcs held.

He tried once more to learn more about this master but could not. Ever y once in a while he’d heard word of a consort or of a tower, but he cared not. What he was worried about was why he was wanted so desperately. Was it because he had killed Azog? He couldn’t be sure, as he hadn’t heard the defiler’s name be spoken even once while he was with the orcs. It was as though they’d forgotten about him completely since Thorin had killed him on the battlefield.

The skies were overcast, grey as stone. Sometimes he would just look up at it, usually whenever the pain would become unbearable, though that was getting rarer. He was getting used to it enough that it was almost like he’d never done anything else. It was his way of coping with what was happening around him.

The orcs still made fires at night and sang. He couldn’t see why they did it, and though he got used to the pain he simply could not get used to their singing. He would rather listen to his company of dwarves sing drunkenly than listen to the orcs sing. If this was his punishment for his wrongdoings, then it certainly was torture.

Soon he began to hear words of being closer to where they needed to be. He did not know where or what this place was, but fear spiked through him. By now he should’ve been rescued-shouldn’t he? But here he stood, still held hostage by orcs, still hurt. There had been not a single sight of rescue, not even one to fill him with just the slightest of hope. Thorin was beginning to fear that he’d been right when he’d hypothesized that the other dwarves thought him to be dead.

What if rescue did come? Thorin thought. What if they were captured, or worse, killed? The idea sickened him, but he knew it was certainly possible. If that were true, then he really, really hoped that Kili wasn’t leading his rescue, or Fili for that matter. He had seen the orcs eat some strange smelling meat while on their quest. But no, he told himself. You surely would’ve heard the sound of ponies, the yelling of your comrades. And he tried to believe that thought, he really did.

Slowly, he learned of where they were going. It was a place he’d heard of, seen map diagrams of, before but never actually bothered to go to. He’d had no reason to go. It was Mordor, and when he got there he knew something was wrong. All his former fears and anxiety were nothing compared to what he felt here. By then he didn’t believe he was going to be rescued. No, he knew that this was hopeless. He was going to face the master of the orcs whether he wanted to or not.

The orcs seemed absolutely thrilled the closer they got to Mordor, and were even more excited once they were in it. They spoke in a mix of their native tongue and gleeful Westron, and they even gave him more bread rations. Either they were really glad to be following this master and he was a great guy, or they were just happy to finally be there. Thorin couldn’t tell what the answer was, or even if it was one of those answers, but he was scared. By now he shouldn’t have been afraid of anything after all he’d been through, but he was scared. The large volcano off in the distance didn't help.

And then it was time to enter the tower. He swallowed the lump in his throat, told himself that he had been through worse and could easily handle this, then walked inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Torture and blood in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sauron in this fic is a mix of Annatar and free imagining since he can change forms at will.

Thorin was given a room to stay in for the night. It was exactly like the tower-everything he never expected. It was kept warm by a fire in the corner, with a soft bed in the corner. Other than that, it was not furnished, save a few paintings on the wall of rolling green hills. He didn’t know what would possibly make this master person like rolling green hills, or what would possess him to treat him humanely, but he doesn’t want to press his luck.

However, it had, unbeknownst to him, already been pressed. Only a good half an hour (if his internal clock could still be trusted, as it had been messed up and out of gear from his days with the orcs) after he arrives, there is a knock on the door. He rubs his eyes and ears and wonders if he’s finally lost his mind. If this is the gold sickness then this is certainly a very extreme case of it. He wondered what would make gold cause him to think of things such as this place.

The knock continued.

“Come in,” he said. His voice cracked from disuse. He used to be told that all he needed to do was speak in a room full of men and he would suddenly be the tallest in the room. Though he’d never been the talking type, he could get the attention of others. But now, after being with the orcs so long, he’d pretty much gone mute. His voice hurt from lack use.

The door opened and any comfort Thorin thought he had was gone.

“Hello,” said the tall man at the door. A long sword was in his hand, looking incredibly sharp. It gleamed in the light. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for quite some time.” He was very tall and thin, and he appeared to know how to use his body type to his advantage. His hair was long, dark as a raven’s belly. He wore a rather simple matching colored robe, but no shoes were on his feet. What was most off putting about him were his green eyes, a shot of color against his milk colored skin and dark hair and clothing. There was a grace in his walk along with a feeling of assuredness. This man did not doubt himself.

“So you’re the orcs’ master?”

He smiled, his teeth slightly more pointed than what he’d seen in other races. His ears were covered by his dark hair, so he could not tell if he was man or elf, or if he was either. “Yes, yes I am. You are Thorin Oakenshield, are you not? The dwarf king?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then that raid wasn’t for naught.” He looked down at his sword, playing with it in his hands. If he was afraid of cutting himself, he didn’t show it. This meant one of two things: He was either a fool who would end up hurting himself, or he was well trained in his abilities and could easily prevent any sort of accident. The way he looked, Thorin guessed it was the latter. He could not hold the hope that this man didn’t know what he was doing.

“What would you want me for?” He didn’t know what he’d done to offend a man in Mordor. By Mahal, he’d never even been there!

The man chuckled, a gleam in his eyes. “I cannot say that you and I are meant to face one another. You did not come here to face me, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Then who did want me here,” his voice shook, “if it wasn’t you?” 

The man stared down once more at his sword, stroking his hand along its surface. “Someone very dear to me, someone you hurt.”

“I’ve hurt a lot of people.” It was a true answer. He knew if there was any way out of this, he couldn’t deny that. Now he couldn’t stick with his pride. What he needed to do was get back to his people, and if saying what the man said was true helped get him closer to getting out, then he’d say it.

“I can confirm that statement,” said a voice. Thorin couldn’t see who said it, but there was something somewhat familiar about it. He began searching through his memory, trying to find a clue to who it was, but nothing came up. 

The man smiled, then reached out his hand and pulled someone forward. Thorin’s heart just about stopped.

“Bilbo?” he asked. He rubbed his eyes, then blinked them. No matter how many times he did that though, he still only saw the hobbit standing before him. He wore dark colored, Shire style clothing. He looked as if he hadn’t changed since the journey three years ago, except his hair was slightly longer and he wore a different color scheme. “Is that you?”

“No,” he said. “Clearly I’m an elf lord.” The bitter sarcasm in his voice sent shivers up Thorin’s spine. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to Bilbo speaking in this fashion to him. No, he always was rather outspoken on his opinion. What sent chills up his spine was the pure hate in his voice.

Thorin rubbed his eyes again. This was too far out there. Or wait, maybe this wasn’t a hallucination, but a dream! This all could have been a dream. It would be a nightmare! Yes, nothing else could explain this. Maybe this was a nightmare induced by his guilty conscience, and when he woke up he’d be back in Erebor. He promised himself that when he woke up, he’d apologize to Bilbo as soon as he possibly could. He had gotten over his grudge with the Arkenstone, he just hadn’t had time to apologize. Well he’d certainly make time now!

“Oh stop it!” Bilbo yelled. He slit his eyes. “You and I both know perfectly well that I’m real.”

Thorin tried to wake up. It didn’t work. He rubbed his eyes once more for good measures. “So this is really happening.”

Bilbo looked at him as though he just hadn’t seen a large beast that was standing right before him. “Yes, this is really happening!” There was a cold hate in his voice, and they were like ice to Thorin. His hate was real; this was no dream. It was just too real to deny that this wasn’t happening.

~

Bilbo turned to Sauron. He didn’t usually like when he stood this tall. Usually he would make himself smaller, just so Bilbo didn’t feel dwarfed over by him. But now he could care less. All he wanted was the sword in his hands. “I would like it now.” He spoke without hesitation, reaching out his hands in earnest for it.

Sauron smiled, then handed it to him. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said.

“Thank you. I’d like this to be alone.”

“But do promise to tell me every gruesome detail when you’re done.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Then Sauron left, and Bilbo entered the room, closing the door behind him. The door closed with a bang, the sound reverberating around the room. Thorin was clutching his leg to himself.

“So,” Bilbo said, “let’s not waste any time.”

Thorin seemed surprised that he could even hold the sword with only one hand, and without sign of struggle. Did he still think of Bilbo as a weakling?

“Bilbo, what are you going to do with that?”

“Cut up slices of cheese.” He looked at Thorin’s leg. “That hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Well, um, yes.” 

Bilbo smiled at Thorin’s embarrassment. At least embarrassing him could make this more fun than it already was. If only he realized before just how funny it was to make Thorin look like an idiot. A feeling of power surged through him, and he liked it.

“Surprised to see me?” Bilbo straightened himself up, then held the sword’s hilt tighter.

“Well yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Do you think this is a gold induced hallucination?”

“I really hope so.”

“Well too bad, because it’s not. That would be too good for you.”

He deserves to be punished, Bilbo thought. I want him to feel what I’ve felt.

Then, wasting no time, he walked up to Thorin, raised his sword, and promptly cut off his leg. He listened to Thorin’s screams, trying to memorize the sound. The blood that poured out of his leg filled him with glee. It had been a smooth, clean cut, and he admired his talent. It was like cutting sausage.

Tears stung at Thorin’s eyes, then fell. “Bilbo, why did you do that?”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t know? You really are an idiot, Thorin. I just wish I’d admitted that to myself when I knew you.”

“I know you’re sad about what happened with the Arkenstone-”

Bilbo cut him off. “Sad? Sad? Do I look like I’m sad? I’m not sad!” He clutched the sword tighter. “I’m fucking angry!” He looked at Thorin one last time, at the blood seeping from his leg and onto his blankets. Thorin was trying to make it stop. His leg had fallen on the floor, where it also made a pool of blood. Bilbo shook his head. “Never mind.” He turned around and began to walk away.

“You’re leaving?”

Bilbo scowled. “So am I taking orders from you now. Well excuse me then, I’d be happy to stay.”

A look of confusion and sadness passed over Thorin’s face. It was obvious that he still couldn’t comprehend how this was actually happening to him. Well, Bilbo guessed that he’d just have to make him believe.

“I hate you, Thorin Oakenshield,” he said. “I fucking hate you.” And then he turned around and left, not listening to Thorin’s desperate cries to let him explain. He slammed the door shut. He bet Thorin was surprised that he could even open the thing. But Thorin had seen, and now he knew that Bilbo could. He wasn’t a weakling.

Bilbo sent for Thorin a healer to stop the bleeding in his leg (this would be far too kind of a death for him), but instructed that none of the blood be cleaned up from his bed, and that his leg stay on the floor. He wanted Thorin to wallow in his own blood and smell his own body rotting. At least then he’d get a taste of what he deserved.

~

If Sauron was useful for anything, it was naming off ways of torture. He’d been happily surprised when Bilbo had told him all he’d done, totally fine with the fact that he hadn’t immediately killed Thorin. He’d actually seemed happier that Bilbo hadn’t just ended it.

“You could make him bleed continuously,” Sauron said, “like you did today, but always stop and let him recover. When it isn’t happening, he’ll still be in pain, both physically and mentally. He’ll shudder at the very thought of you and regret ever stepping inside that hole of yours.”

Funny mentioning it, Bilbo thought. By now he couldn’t remember what he’d liked so much about it, or why he’d wanted so desperately to go back. He still read regularly, but he did not read the books he formerly read. He didn’t need adventure stories any longer-his life had been a tragic adventure ever since he’d set out. Now he mostly read up on history. He knew a lot, but now was filling in parts that he didn’t know. Soon, perhaps, he could be called an expert.

“Or you could have me bring more,” he said. “Do you hold hate towards his nephews for still living?”

“In all honesty, no. They did not act like their uncle. Still, they were brats.”

“Well you could always have them brought here and force them to watch their uncle suffer.”

Bilbo smiled. “I like that. But that would take too long, a couple months. I don’t want to wait two to three months again. The last wait was long enough. Besides, Thorin’s suffering should be drawn out, but I’d have to make sure to not induce any fatal injuries on him for a while if it meant I needed his nephews to come. Besides, they’d be rather useless. They’d just beg me to stop, cry out their eyes, and then hug their uncle. The sight would be sickening!”

Sauron nodded. “Yes, the sight would be certainly nothing short of disgusting.”

“Besides, no agony would be better than them knowing that they will never again see their uncle. They did everything they ever could to impress the bastard. They were like dogs fetching bones for their master, always looking for a scratch behind the ears.” If Thorin had heard what Bilbo said, he would be outraged. But it was true, oh it was true. He knew how they viewed them.

“Do you want to hurt him more?”

“Of course!”

He smiled. “Well I know the perfect way. Remember that magic I taught you?”

“Yes. I’ve mastered it.”

“I’m going to teach you something else. It’s actually quite simple, but it’s sure to give you the desired effect. He’ll be helpless to you when you do this, or at least more helpless than he already is. He’ll be shaking in his boots.”

“What is it?” Bilbo’s heart raced with excitement.

Sauron chuckled. “Now don’t get impatient on me.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’ll show you.” And he did. “Believe me, you can do this without breaking a sweat.”

Bilbo just imagined what he’d do with it. “It’ll be perfect.”

“Yes, it will be. I love seeing someone covered in their own blood, and I relish hearing screams of pain as any other, but there’s something special about this that you can’t deny. It’s honestly better than physical suffering in my opinion. Do tell me the results when you’re finished.”

“I won’t spare a single detail.”

Sauron smiled again. “I’ll be sure to hold you to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So free advertising for my Tumblr:  
> http://gideondorf.tumblr.com/  
> I post sneak peeks at my fics on there, so if you wanna know more about the next chapter of this before I release it, you should check my Tumblr out. I post a lot about writing my fics there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes Thorin suffer.
> 
> I'm evil; I know.

The next day, after Bilbo had told Sauron everything that he possibly could, putting in every little detail until Sauron was sure that he could perfectly imagine everything, and after Sauron had showed his this new technique, Bilbo went to Thorin. He looked him straight in the eye, a knife clutched to his side. It wasn’t that sharp and certainly wasn’t very large, but Thorin paled at the sight of it. He looked as though he thought he saw an axe in front of him. Bilbo smiled.

“I’m back,” he said. Thorin didn’t respond, just looked down, away from him. Bilbo felt himself getting angry. He didn’t come in here to look at the top of Thorin’s head, but instead his eyes. He would take every other body part, but always he wanted Thorin to see. Eye patches were nice, but Thorin deserved to see everything. “So what should I remove today? Any part of you that you haven’t liked?”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, blue eyes wide (seeing, seeing everything), “you’re not like yourself. Please stop.”

Bilbo stamped his hairy foot on the ground. “Not like myself? You barely knew me!”

“Of course I knew you!” Thorin spoke as if Bilbo had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “We were lovers, and I thought-” He paused, eyes searching over Bilbo’s face. Bilbo kept his face emotionless, a mask of calmness. Thorin used to be very good at that, and now he got to feel what it was like to look into that face. “I thought you were my One and Only. Bilbo, I’m so sorry.”

Bilbo laughed. The sound echoed across the room, and hopefully the sound rang in Thorin’s ears. If it did, he hoped that he would never forget it and that it would haunt him to the end of his days, whether it came sooner or later (whenever Bilbo deemed it worthy for him to die). “Your One and Only? You’re actually going to pull that and then expect me to believe that bullshit? Thorin, I saw the way you looked at me when you heard of what I did. You gave me up for the Arkenstone, a fucking shiny rock.”

“Bilbo, I realize that what I did was wrong! I was out of my mind! You have to realize that it was the gold sickness!”

Bilbo sighed. “You were going to strangle me had the other dwarves not stopped you. Thorin, I nearly died at your own hands. I don’t want to hear anything about it only being the gold sickness. In your eyes there was a pure hate that no disease could call. For a time, a short time but a time none the less, you wanted me to die at your own hands.” He clutched the knife tighter. “Do you see that same hate in my eyes, Thorin? I do hope so. By now you deserve a taste of your own medicine.”

“Bilbo, this is insane! I understand you hating me, but this?”

“Well,” Bilbo said, holding the knife up to his forehead, ready to plunge it in him if he needed to, “why don’t I explain? I do believe an explanation is in order.”

“Yes, that would be good.” Thorin tried to appear calm, but the fear in his eyes and the sweat on his brow said the exact opposite. Bilbo could just imagine his heart frantically beating against his ribcage, and he was almost tempted to reach out and feel his heartbeat, to see if his theory was true. But he couldn’t. No, that would seem too intimate. He didn’t want that to be anything Thorin felt about him now.

“It’s a long story, but I’ll start at the beginning. You met my husband yesterday, Thorin.”

“Was he that big tall guy with the long black hair?”

Bilbo sighed. “Has anyone ever told you that you have such a way with words? Yes, that was my husband you saw yesterday. He’s not going to trade me for a fucking rock.”

“Bilbo, I realize what I did but-”

“And I realize that nothing you say will matter. Nothing any of you dwarves would or could ever say matters. In the end you love rocks more than you love the others around you. You’re exactly like your grandfather. Fili and Kili would have been like you. In the end you would’ve been completely lost to the gold sickness and I wouldn’t have been able to save you, no matter what. I couldn’t change your nature, Thorin. I know the legends that dwarves will not marry out of love for gold and jewels, and you and the others proved it. That’s what makes Sauron different. He may wear a gold ring, but he does not worship it, and he does not want more gold. His very nature is not to want it. He would never betray me, unlike you. At first all I was doing was trying to replace you, but ultimately I got more than that. Now I have everything that you aren’t, and I’m glad. I wouldn’t want a greedy shit like you, and looking back, I’m ashamed that I ever liked you. You might think there are other ways, that you should’ve done something to prevent this, but don’t think of the what-ifs. I would only be happy with this outcome. To think that for some time I actually wanted to live out the rest of my natural life with you.”

Bilbo took Thorin’s hand in his own, then held up a finger. He took the knife and prepared to cut it off, then suddenly stopped. No, this wasn’t the time for it. Instead, he started chanting as Sauron had instructed him to. He wondered how long it would take for the actual spell to take effect, then didn’t bother to answer himself. What he needed to do was focus. If he messed up or even slipped on a word, the spell wouldn’t work and Thorin would think that Bilbo had lost his marbles. That was the exact thing he did not want to happen when he was trying to make a point.

It worked.

Just before Thorin completely went under the spell, Bilbo spoke again, and he hoped Thorin heard it all. “But I know why you ultimately chose a jewel over me, Thorin Oakenshield. A jewel can never leave you, get tired of the way you treat them and walk out on you. You would’ve liked me more if I had been like the Arkenstone, wouldn’t you? Oh don’t even try to deny it, you know that it’s true.”

~

Thorin was helpless to stop what was in front of him. He was chained into his own body, forcibly reliving everything. His beard was shorter, his hair had a few less grey hairs, and his skin had fewer wrinkles. His hands were wrapped around the neck of the hobbit who had tried to save his life. He was yelling at him, calling him the foulest names in the book, and all over a shiny rock. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t change his words. And all the while he was forced to watch Bilbo suffer. He watched himself throw Bilbo on the ground, watched him scurry away from him with tears in his eyes. He listened to himself call him a traitor, call him useless when in fact he’d saved his life many times before.

And he could not stop it. It was done, set in stone, and no matter how much Thorin hated it, it could not be changed.

And then the scene around him changed, vanishing away like vapor. Just as quickly, it was replaced to something he remembered well, but not this way. In front of him was himself, when he had nearly died. He was knocked unconscious. It was only shortly after he’d woken up and yelled at Bilbo for being there, that he was banished from Erebor. Hot tears burned at his eyes, and he turned around and began to run. When he looked down at his feet, they were covered in dark brown hair.

He was stuck in Bilbo’s body. As horrible as the last scene had been, this was twenty times worse, as he was trapped inside the body of the person he had hurt most, and he couldn’t stop it. He could feel the stone beneath his feet and smell the thick, smoke filled air, and see the bodies of the dead all around him. Along with the smoky smell, the scent of blood hung in the air. If Thorin could, he would vomit.

And then the scene stopped. He braced himself for what came next, but nothing did. Instead, Bilbo stood in front of him, looking at him straight in the eye. He clutched the knife in his hand, but ultimately turned around and stalked away, not saying a single word.

“Bilbo, I didn’t realize-”

He turned around to face him. “Well now you do realize! Or do I need to repeat that?” He threw the knife at Thorin’s head, and he was just barely able to dodge it. Bilbo glared at him. “You got lucky with that, Thorin. But then again, it would be such a shame for you to die so soon after you got here.”

~

“Make me feel better,” Bilbo said. “Can you do that?”

Sauron smiled. “I will do my best, but ultimately I cannot guarantee it will work. I do not wish to give you false hope.”

“He always gave me false hope.” Bilbo remembered, but then he shook his head. No, he should be feeling happier now, not sadder.

Sauron gently ran his fingers through Bilbo’s hair. “I guess that’s another thing that makes me different from him, isn’t it? So what would you like me to do for you?”

“Anything.”

“If you insist.” He smiled. “Well then, let’s get down to business. How about once you’ve finally killed him I make you forget he even existed. I don’t like watching you suffer because of him. Imagine not even knowing his name. Would you like that?”

Bilbo thought about it for a moment. “I’m actually not sure.”

“You don’t have to decide today, but just remember that it’s always an option.”

“Won’t I forget about you?”

“Of course not. I can easily make him a blank in your mind while still leaving all memories of me inside of you. It’d just be one less burden to carry on your very tired shoulders. If you aren’t interested then I won’t do it. I have absolutely no intentions of forcing you. It’s entirely up to you, and I support whatever choice you make.”

“Thank you for that.”

Sauron cupped Bilbo’s chin in his hands. “It’s sad that you even have to say thank you for that. You should have been with others like me many times before. I should not be the exception who actually cared about you or your opinion. You deserve better than that.”

Bilbo frowned. “You-you’re right. I guess I never really thought of it that way before.”

“Well it’s the truth.” He paused, putting his hands on Bilbo’s shoulder. “So, would you like to begin?”

Bilbo nodded. “Let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blah blah blah I ended the chapter set up for porn.

**Author's Note:**

> So did I write the smut well? I haven't written it in a while.
> 
> So what does everyone think? I never imagined writing this and yet here it is.


End file.
